


drew&rick | buttercup

by goldpeak



Category: The Night Shift (TV 2014)
Genre: Caretaking, Caring Drew, Comfort, Cuddles, Drew is a Good Boyfriend, Fever, It's just cute, M/M, Mindless Fluff, Nicknames, Sick Character, The Night Shift - Freeform, based off a prompt, sick fluff, sleepy rick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 05:57:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11799846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldpeak/pseuds/goldpeak
Summary: In which, Rick’s sick and Drew takes care of him. Based off a Tumblr prompt.-“Hurry back,” Rick mumbles. “I don’t know if I can make it without you.”“You’re sick, you aren’t dying, buttercup,” Drew chides, flashing a smile at his boyfriend.“’Buttercup,’ huh?” Rick says with a teasing smirk.“Shut up,” Drew laughs, sitting down on the couch again and laying the cool cloth on Rick’s forehead. “I’m supposed to be sweet and doting when you’re sick.”





	drew&rick | buttercup

**In which, Rick’s sick and Drew takes care of him. Based off the prompt:** _“You’re sick, you’re not dying, buttercup.”_

...

The thermometer beeps and Drew takes it out from under Rick’s tongue- it reads 101.6.

Drew frowns, pressing the back of his hand to Rick’s forehead. The latter is laid on the couch, propped up on the armrest, in sweats and a baggy t-shirt. His face and neck are shiny with sweat, his skin pale and clammy.

“I’m not going in tonight,” Drew decides, digging around in his pocket for his phone. “Your fever is too high.”

“You have work...it’s fine, I’m good,” Rick protests weakly, lifting a hand to gesture dismissively. “I don’t even feel that-.”

Rick cuts himself off, leaning over the couch to throw up into the trash can Drew had put there. With a frown, Drew shuffles over on the couch and rubs Rick’s back as he heaves.

A few moments later, the latter sits up and Drew grabs a washcloth, dabbing at Rick’s mouth with it. “What was that about ‘feeling fine,’ dear?”

Rick shoots a glare at him, his eyes bloodshot and tired.

“C’mon, let’s get you lying down,” Drew sighs.

He takes a throw pillow from the other side of the couch, and grabs Rick’s arms to pulls him up as he settles the pillow underneath him. The other man shuffles down until his head is resting on the pillow, and Drew gives him a little half smile.

“I’m gonna get you a cold cloth,” Drew says, squeezing Rick’s arm before getting up and walking off.

“Hurry back,” Rick mumbles. “I don’t know if I can make it without you.”

“You’re sick, you aren’t dying, buttercup,” Drew chides, running a clean washcloth under the tap before returning to the living room where Rick is laid on the couch.

“’Buttercup,’ huh?” Rick says with a teasing smirk.

“Shut up,” Drew laughs, sitting down on the couch again and laying the cloth on Rick’s forehead. “I’m supposed to be sweet and doting when you’re sick.”

Rick doesn’t acknowledge Drew’s comment, he just hisses at the touch of the cloth.

“It’s freezing,” Rick mumbles, weakly raising a hand to push it off.

Drew takes it away, tilting his head curiously. “It’s just cool.”

“Freezing,” Rick insists weakly. “M’ cold...”

“I’ll get you a blanket,” Drew offers. “Close your eyes, rest. I’ll be right back.”

He walks into their laundry room, tossing the wet washcloth into the empty washer before rifling through the dryer to find a clean blanket. He grabs the blue one – Drew’s personal favorite, though he might be biased as Rick bought it for him – and slings it over his shoulder as he walks back towards the living room.

He lays it out over Rick, who seems to be drifting towards sleep. Then, he takes the trash bag out of the waste bin near the couch and ties it off before tossing it in the outside trashcan.

On his way back into the house, he grabs his phone and dials the hospital’s non-emergency number. He steps into the house, shuts the door quietly behind him, and takes a seat on the armchair just a few feet away from the couch.

He keeps a watchful eye on the rise and fall of Rick’s chest – as a precaution. _There are no heart monitors here,_ he tells himself. _Just being safe._

Finally, the phone picks up.

“San Antonio Memorial,” Molly answers. “Can I help you?”

“Hey, Molly, it’s me,” Drew answers quietly. It looks as if Rick’s fallen asleep and he doesn’t want to wake him. “Could I have Topher, please?”

“Sure thing, hon,” Molly says, and then the phone beeps and he knows he’s muted while someone tries to flag down Topher.

A few moments later, it’s picked back up and Topher’s voice is on the other end of the line.

“Hey Drew. What’s up?”

“Hey, Toph. Just wanted to let you know, uh, Rick’s got a pretty high fever and I shouldn’t leave him alone. Is it okay if I take tonight off?” Drew asks.

“Oh, yeah, that’s fine,” Topher agrees. “Uh, if his fever gets above 103, you know-.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m hoping it doesn’t get that high,” Drew sighs, running his hand over his face. “Thanks, Toph. Appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no problem, man. Tell Rick I hope he feels better,” Topher says. “Incoming. Gotta run.”

“Thanks again!” Drew says, but then the call cuts off.

Sighing, he clicks his phone off and stands up, stretching his arms briefly before wandering over to the shelf near the TV stand and grabbing a random book off of it.

He returns to his armchair, curling up in it and propping open the book.

-

Apparently, Drew drifted off. Because, he’s woken up by a weight dropping against his side.

Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he tilts his head down to see Rick tucked up under his arm. The other man’s legs are tucked up tightly- one arm has found its way behind Drew’s neck, the other draped across his chest.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Drew mumbles, pressing a kiss to Rick’s temple. “You feeling any better?”

Rick nods his head. Drew reaches around to press a hand to his cheek; it’s cooler than before.

“Feels like your fever dropped,” Drew mutters. “Do you know the time?”

Rick shakes his head, burrowing deeper into Drew’s side.

“Sorry babe, I’ve gotta go get you the thermometer,” Drew says apologetically, looking down at the man cuddled up against him.

Rick frowns, tilting his head up. Drew kisses him on the nose, causing the other man to let a slight smile overcome his face. Drew untangles himself from Rick’s limbs and goes over to the coffee table, where the thermometer is lying. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he glances at the time. 2:49 AM.

He walks back over to Rick and holds out the thermometer. Somewhat teasingly, Rick sticks his tongue out and lets Drew place the metal tip in his mouth.

Rick looks up at him almost pathetically as the thermometer rests under his tongue, and Drew combs a hand through the other man’s hair.

“Look at you,” Drew says, voice soft. “You hot mess.”

Rick scrunches up his nose in disapproval. The thermometer beeps and Drew pulls it out, it reads 100.4.

“Hey, your fever’s gone down,” Drew notes, putting the thermometer onto the table beside the armchair. “You should try and sleep the rest of it off.”

Rick shrugs, uncoiling himself from the chair and reaching out his arms. With a chuckle, Drew grabs hold of them and pulls him up to his feet.

“C’mon, buttercup,” Drew teases. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Again, with that nickname,” Rick chides quietly.

“You love it,” Drew insists, an arm slung around Rick’s shoulders as he guides the other to the bedroom.

“Not sure about that,” Rick shakes his head, as Drew nudges open the door. “But I do love you.”

“Hmm,” Drew ponders. “I suppose I love you too, buttercup.”

...

 

 

 


End file.
